Sometimes, we feel as though we have escaped the confines of the flower pot, but perhaps this is merely an illusion. We sense ourselves rooted in the earth, where good soil propels our bodies forward, while quagmires only serve to mire us deeper, making it impossible to extricate ourselves. Much like a cactus bereft of its spines, we lose the tools that protect us, which are the ability to think freely and independently. A cactus without spines is reduced to mere sustenance, so will we, unable to think, be reduced to a mere feast?
